


A Partial Lie

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [47]
Category: The Whole Truth (2016)
Genre: Animals, BBW, Cats, Chases, Courtroom Drama, Dramedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Lawyers, Lies, Louisiana, Love, Love Stories, Motorcycles, Murder, Overweight, Riding, Romantic Comedy, Sandwiches, Secrets, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Shame, Trials, Truth, crazy cat lady, petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Needing a lawyer after I am arrested for feeding a stray cat, the court appoints hot shot lawyer Richard Ramsey to my case. After winning the highly publicized Mike Lassiter murder trial, Ramsay has been doing a lot of pro bono work, a fact which confuses me at first. Just as he is confused about why I wish to plead "Not Guilty" instead of receiving a lighter sentence by promising never to feed the stray again.While initially I irritate him, the tormented lawyer soon finds himself becoming fond of me. Eventually Richard opens up about the dark secret which is eating him alive and we grow even closer.But not before we try to catch a miserable old Tom Cat, that is.
Relationships: Richard Ramsay & Boone Lassiter, Richard Ramsay & Mike Lassiter, Richard Ramsay/Loretta Lassiter, Richard Ramsay/Me, Richard Ramsey & Janelle Brady
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Kudos: 2





	A Partial Lie

**Author's Note:**

> The Whole Truth entry and the truth and verdict of my feelings regarding the film: I liked it. I honestly also thought that Keanu did a really great job in it. Some moments in it really impressed me because it just felt completely and disarmingly natural. That last scene with his character sitting alone and obviously guilty in the courtroom really moved me.
> 
> So what do I end up doing for this fic? I make it a breezy little romcom with me as a crazy cat lady. Sigh. This was meant to be a whole lot more serious but I hope it's fun, at least, and that some seriousness and heart remains.
> 
> I'm starting to see myself being like Clara "The Impossible Girl" Oswald in this series. You know when she was around the 11th, before she got all mopey and annoying? I liked how she encountered all the various Doctors and tried to save them. Here I'm zipping around the Keanuverse and meeting his various incarnations and falling in love with them too. Giving that they are different characters, though, I hope that doesn't make me a big old tramp. :/ Of course, Reeves, himself, said that there is a bit of his DNA in each of the roles he has tackled. So there is that at least. 
> 
> But enough with that...
> 
> On to the story...
> 
> Even if it is a lighthearted piece of nonsense.

Tom showed up everyday on my front porch. If he hadn't been so cute I probably would have told him to darken some other poor woman in Louisiana's doorstep and not have given in.

No, wait! That's not at all true. Knowing myself extremely well, I knew, even if he'd been homely as heck I still wouldn't have been able to turn the scoundrel away but would have caved in and surrendered.

But Tom was attractive, and also so very lost and lonely, so I fell for him the first time that I saw him and foolishly gave him my heart.

And a can of tuna.

Which I probably shouldn't have done.

Especially after I was told by the police officer that it was illegal to feed stray cats in the part of Louisiana I had moved to.

Not that that stopped me at first.

Or even second, third or fourth after those warnings and rapidly accumulating fines.

It did stop me after the fifth, however.

Because by then I was in jail and couldn't make it back to my house or my porch where Tom Cat, my furry bundle of resonsibility, was presumably waiting for me and wondering how I could possibly be so selfish as to not feed him.

Thankfully alone in my cell I sniffled all to myself, unable to understand why what I had done had been so illegal or wrong.

* * *

I had very little money. Most of it had been spent on feeding Tom and myself and paying the rent and utlities on the small house where the dastardly offense had taken place. That's why I was forever grateful when I was offered a lawyer whom was willing to handle my case for free. Pro bono a merciful concept and ideal for someone like myself whom was already beseiged by OCD, shyness and anxiety issues

Those anxiety issues were in full effect as I sat waiting in a small room in the county jailhouse. I really didn't know what to expect. All I wanted to do was go back to my little house before some other more dangerous convict came along and I had to share my cell with somebody else.

I was not expecting the lawyer to walk through the door to be kind of cute though. I would have been even more nervous if I had been.

"Hello Miss Smyth," he said extending his hand for me to take and shake. "I'm Richard Ramsay. Your state appointed attorney."

I could only imagine what he was thinking of me.

No, wait! I knew what he was thinking. She's kind of pretty, her brown auburn hair is nice but it's a shame she's so big.

On the otherhand, seeing him closer I realized he looked familiar.

"You might know me," Ramsay said, easily reading my expression of vague recognition. "I usually work on more high profile cases."

"Like the Mike Lassiter case," I said, finally placing him. Mike had been a young man tried for the murder of his father. The boy had claimed his dad had been secretly molesting him for years and had been eventually set free. If Ramsay had been the defender on that case it had meant he had won it.

"Right," the man said but looked inexplicably uncomfortable for having been the victor.

I was, likewise, uncomfortable wondering why he had gone from that case to defending the likes of me, a stray kitty cat feeder.

Richard Ramsay sat down to my side and began to examine my file as his hand absently played with his pen. I could tell that the lawyer did not want to be here. "I think we should be able to get you out of jail by this afternoon," he stated, raising his eyes to meet mine.

"Oh good. I need to go feed Tom Cat," I exclaimed with a nod of my head.

Richard Ramsay looked at me as if I had just extended my tongue and washed off my forehead with it.

No, wait! If I'd done that he probably would have been more impressed than displeased, knowing how men usually are with anything involving the female tongue.

Now he was just staring at me in almost angry disaproval.

"Miss Smyth, you are in here because you are _NOT_ supposed to feed Tom Cat. Never again are you allowed to feed Tom Cat. In fact, my whole plea bargain involves you pledging to not so much as go _near_ another stray for the rest of your natural born life."

I gazed back at him in as polite defiance as I could manage past my horrible shyness and the realization that my lawyer was kind of cute.

No, wait! I'd noticed he was kind of cute the moment he stepped through the door. Now I was noticing that he was incredibly handsome.

"I can't do that," I informed him.

"Why not?" Ramsay asked, twirling the pen around in his left hand.

"It would be a lie."

My lawyer smiled at me as if I was a hopelessly naive child that had yet to learn that B came after A in the alphabet. "It can't be a _lie_. You can't feed the cat without being found out, charged and imprisoned again. You are going infront of the judge and you are going to swear never to feed the stray again and you are going to mean it."

"I am not pledging anything of the sort!" I cried out. "In fact, when I get out of here, I'm cracking open another tin of tuna or Friskies and watching him eat the whole thing!"

Richard Ramsay looked really pissed off now and slammed the pen down on the table. "If you know what's best, you'll just swear to it and get yourself out of here. It's your only choice."

I glared at him with more open defiance.

No, wait! My anxiety never allowed me such boldness especially in front of such a handsome man.

Instead I looked at Ramsey meekly and reminded him, "You're my lawyer right? Isn't there one more option?"

"And what is that?" he asked in clear annoyance.

I realized then that I liked his voice.

No, wait! I was halfway in love with it. Just another reason to say what I said next.

"You can help me fight this stupid law! I want my day in court and I want _you_ standing right by my side!"

The man stared at me in complete disbelief.

No, wait! He did believe me that was what made him so mad.

I thought his animosity was directed at me, at first, until he turned his head, lowered it and mumbled, "Damn you, Loretta," under his breath. But not so _under_ that I didn't _over_ hear him.

"And is this Tom Cat that loving towards you?" he countered, trying to understand my affection for the stray.

"No. Not really. I can't pet him. He runs away if I get too close and he hisses all of the time."

"And you still want to keep feeding him inspite of all that?" Ramsay asked bewildered.

"Yes. He's all alone," I answered.

Ramsay ran a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair, grabbing the pen and looking as if he'd like to stab either himself or me with it. We spent a lot of the rest of our first meeting arguing with one another. By the end of it, I could see a certain sadness mixed with some other emotion in Richard Ramsay's eyes but I was certain, despite our rocky start, I hadn't placed it there. The annoyance, yes, but the sorrow was not my responsibility.

But just like Tom Cat, I found myself wishing Richard Ramsay would be my responsibility too.

* * *

Despite his remaining desire just to plea guilty, accept a lighter fine and be rid of me, Ramsay managed to arrange bail for me and I was set free until the day of my hearing, two weeks from now. As he had entered the "Not Guilty" plea, my lawer looked as if he had swallowed a needle which had stuck in his throat. The Judge, a man named Robichaux, looked as if he thought he had gone crazy also.

"Are you absolutely sure your client wants to do that, Mr Ramsay?" he asked, glancing at me as if I had just announced that I was Joan of Arc.

No, wait! If I'd done that he would have been happier because my mental illness would have been confirmed and I would not have been wasting everybodies time by saying I wasn't guilty of feeding a stray cat which I clearly had been doing.

"Yes," Ramsay said, glancing at me in irritation.

"Contempt of court!" I said and earned another odd look from the two upholders of the law. "Oops," I mumbled but was still free by the time that we walked out of the courtroom.

From his hurried walk, one I needed to increase my own speed so he wouldn't easily escape me, I knew Richard Ramsay could not wait to be rid of me. I, however, was smitten with the man. I liked everything about him from his voice, to the way he moved to his body and face.

No, wait! I did not like _one_ thing. I didn't like how much he obviously _didn't_ like me.

"I'll try to work on your case and contact you soon," he said noncommittally.

"When will that be?" I asked hopefully.

He glanced back at me, clearly wishing it would be never. Ramsay was about to reply when he almost bumped into an attractive young black woman. "Janelle," he said in an apologetic tone after seeing whom it was.

Janelle's face bore the expression of somebody having to do that which was necessary but loathing it all the same. "Richard," she said. "Still doing pro bono cases, I see. The crazy cat lady huh?"

This insult hurt both my lawyer and myself. Me doubly in a way because I felt bad for my lawyer and not only my own wounded pride.

Her barb delivered, the female attorney wouldn't even look at Richard then; she just marched towards the courtroom as if he did not exist at all.

Seeing the look on Richard Ramsay's face, I speedily looked away, trying to give the man his privacy.

No, wait! I couldn't look away. I moved closer towards the man as he quickly forgot his urge to be free of me as soon as he could and just stood there mortified instead. I took his hand in my own. "You okay?" I asked him.

The lawyer looked as startled as Tom Cat did when he realized that I was too close for his comfort.

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied bolting ahead, similarly like my Tom Cat would in the same situation.

I stood there watching him leave me behind and tried not to tear up. Suddenly he stopped in the courtroom's long corridor and turned back to face me. "Look, you need a ride or something?"

"Oh yes!" I cried running up to him. "I came here in the back of a cruiser!"

I walked with him out to the courtroom's parking lot and to his mode of transport which I looked at in horror.

It was a motorcycle.

Ramsay threw another helmet at me, one he apparently travelled with incase of necessity, and read my anxiety. "What's the problem?"

"I'm too big! I won't fit!"

"Of course you will!" he argued.

"But I still can't ride it."

"Why not?"

I leaned forward and both whispered and spelled out the next item on my list of concerns. "I'm a v-i-r-g-i-n."

"What the hell does that have to do with my motorcycle?" he spat.

"Well I heard horseback riding can break...well you know. Or even riding a bicycle."

The lawyer looked about ready to give me a blast until his expression changed. "Actually, I have no idea," he confessed and looked at the seat. "I've never faced this problem before."

"What type of girls do you usually ride with?" I brazenly inquired which earned a smirk.

We spent the next few minutes debating on if it would or not pose a problem, wondering if it was possible to ride side saddle or not. By the end of the discussion, at least, Ramsay seemed to have forgotten his lack of a fond reunion with Janelle while I decided that I'd chance it and boldly hopped on behind my lawyer before he revoked his offer altogether. It was a thrill getting to hold on to him tightly all the way home and thinking he'd somehow been responsible for my...well...

You know.

Outside of my house, I was laughing as I climbed off of the motorcycle and when I took off the helmet I was graced with the sound of Richard Ramsay doing the same.

"That was fun," I stated handing him back his helmet.

"It's better without the helmet but don't tell anybody I said that. Especially people in long black robes," Ramsay said.

"I won't," I promised zipping my lips. "My mom used to let me wear her old skidoo helmet when I was young. Felt like my head was about to fall off."

The lawyer laughed. We looked at one another and I thought we both became self conscious at the same time. "Well it was nice to meet you, Mr. Ramsay," I said holding out my soft, pudgy hand.

"Richard," the man said. "And I'll drop by tomorrow to discuss your case. If that's okay, Erin?"

He said it as if he was also asking if it was okay to use my first name or if it was perhaps a little too forward. Which it was.

No, wait! It wasn't. If he'd come in right there and then and asked to help me check to see if my maidenhead had survived the journey, I would have not thought any less of him and would have happily let him.

"Yes. Please. I'm usually always here."

Richard smiled at me again before starting the engine up and pulling away. I watched him go until he was no longer a speck down the road and the sound of his bike was no more than the hum of a mosquito. As I was walking up the stairs to my porch, Tom Cat greeted me with a look that said, "Where's my supper, Bitch?"

"Give me a second or two," I stated, feeling as if I was floating up to cloud nine.

And with the phantom sensation of the motorcycle helmet still on my head all the way there so I was somewhat safe.

* * *

I saw Richard several times during the next two weeks. He'd come and see me knowing that I did not drive. Whenever he visited, I saw that same sadness I had noted before clearly in his dark eyes and I tried my best to cheer him up whenever I could. 

One time he met Tom Cat. The two males stared at one another uneasily.

"Is he okay?" Richard finally asked after about a minute of silence and noticing Tom Cat's general manginess..

"Not sure but he's still breathing and that's always a good sign," I said with a shrug as we walked inside of the house.

My dashing lawyer parked his cute butt on my sofa and looked at me pensively. For the last few visits he had been trying to urge me towards lying on the stand, something I was unwilling to do. Today was looking to be no different until shortly before it was time for him to leave and he asked me imploringly "Well if you can't tell the whole truth, how about a partial lie then?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"You consider Tom Cat to be your cat, right?"

"Yes. I just never bought the license for him."

"Well I have some friends down at City Hall," Ramsay stated. "I can call in a favor or two and they will do the necessary paperwork, postdating it around the time you started feeding Tom. Is that truthful enough? You fed him after all. He's yours. They can't fine or put you in jail for feeding your own cat."

I contemplated this. It was within the vicinity of honesty enough for my liking. "Okay."

"Good," Richard said, seeming genuinely relieved.

As I was seeing Richard out, Tom Cat was gone. He was like that: Hit and run was his lifestyle.

"Hey," I said to my similarly leaving lawyer. "If you had that tactic up your sleeve why'd you wait till now to tell me?"

Richard looked appropriately cocky which kind of made me want to swoon.

No, wait! I was swooning. Only the screen door which my hands were holding on to, and my body was resting against, was holding me up.

"Maybe because I wanted to stay as long as I could?" he stated with complete sincerity.

"Really?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he answered. " _Really_."

I felt warm and fuzzy again and Richard looked like he felt the same way too. Which was weird since usually lawyers were thought of as having scales instead of fur.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he announced. "All we have to do is get the licence and put it around Tom Cat's neck. Easy right?"

"Easy," I smiled and repeated.

No, wait! I thought to myself. Knowing my hissy, cranky, irritable, antsy, anti social Tom Cat it would be anything but easy. Infact, that was why I'd never bothered to buy the license in the first place.

Still spending a day with Richard Ramsay trying to accomplish the impossible seemed worth this one little unsworn lie so I just kept my mouth shut.

* * *

We should have gotten a cage. Instead like two idiots we spent the day chasing after a mostly feral and very grumpy Tom Cat.

"His butthole is covered in shit," Richard stated in disgust, having been granted the rear end perspective of the feline one time too many for his liking.

"I know," I agreed with a sigh. "I don't think he can successfully reach it."

Richard brought his hand to his face and wiped it.

No, wait! He brought an oven mitt to his face. We were both wearing them for protection.

We pursued Tom Cat around my property and once Richard actually caught him only to have the mangy feline turn on the poor lawyer and administer several scratches to his arms and face. Blood appeared and fur went flying alongside a few F bombs. 

"RICHARD!" I screamed as Tom Cat managed to wriggle out of his grasp while my lawyer fell flat on his back.

I rushed to my fallen attorney. "BAD CAT!" I shouted angrily at the affronted pussycat whom glared at me. I knelt by Richard whom was still lying on his back trying to figure out what had happened.

"You're bleeding!" I cried and touched my lawyer's skin close to his weeping wounds.

"And he's still free damnit!" Ramsay exclaimed angrily.

We watched as Tom headed out towards the bayou.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and a gator will get him," the wounded man theorized. "There goes the State's evidence."

I placed my hands on my hips and glared down at the lawyer.

"Just joking...I think," he corrected.

"C'mon," I said, pulling Richard to his feet. "We'd better disinfect those."

The man only rolled up his sleeves, revealing his nadty looking scratches. "No, Erin!" he stated, eyeing the swamp. "Your hearing's tomorrow. It's gotta be now. Grab a box. We're going in!"

* * *

And we did.

And at the start it looked properly good and hopeless.

After searching around for a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of the dastardly kitty amongst the bald cypresses and undergrowth we started to lose hope.  
"Do you think the paperwork would be enough?" I asked.

"No. He needs the license," my lawyer replied testily for he was wounded in battle, hot and exhausted.

Richard sat on a nearby fallen cypress trunk, undid the first button of his shirt and wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his arm, which was equally sweaty in its own right so he wasn't entirely sucessful.

I parked my fat ass down beside him. "Sorry," I apologized touching the expensive and now dirt covered torn fabric hiding his knee; a knee which was peeking out anyway.

He glanced at me and then stared ahead at the bush where Tom Cat may have been lurking. Looking back at me, I saw a kindness in his brown eyes which bordered on affection or fondness.

No, wait! It didn't border on the emotion; it was all the way there and I felt a glow warmer than the day all over.

"Why?" Richard asked. "It's not your fault."

"But you wouldn't be out here trying to catch a wily old pusscat if it wasn't because of me feeding the little bastard, to begin with, and not being willing to make a plea bargain."

"Stop blaming yourself, Erin," Richard chastised gently. "You do that too much. And I never would have taken pro bono work if I hadn't made a mistake with the wrong woman, _to begin with_. This...this punishment. Believe me, I deserve it."

That same sadness filled his eyes and I identified the secret ingredient now: guilt.

"Care to make a confession?" I asked.

Richard Ramsay laughed, looked at me and then off back at the bayou bushes again. I was surprised at the lack of bitterness in that laugh and felt good once more knowing that he liked me. It felt especially wonderful because I liked him too.

No, wait! I didn't just like him. I was in love with him.

"What are you my priest?" brown eyes gazed into my green gray ones.

"No, I'm your client."

A sweet smile. "And I'm your lawyer. You got this backwards, Erin. You do the confessing. I try to find a way for _you_ to get out of your trouble. It's not the other way around."

He looked so young when he was amused by something, and though I hated to take that away from him, in this particular moment I hoped that maybe if he told me the source of his shame that maybe I could help him regain his joy more permanently.

"Well why can't this work both ways!" I argued. "I'm sworn to keep your secrets too. I promise I won't hate you. Well...not if it's really horrible. But I know you...you'd never do anything _really_ bad."

Richard Ramsay studied me for half a minute and I suddenly felt hopelessly shy. The feeling worsened when he brought his hand to my face and touched it tenderly.

No, wait! It didn't worsen. No negative connonatation could be used in regards to how it felt when his skin met mine.

"Okay," he murmured. "I'll tell you but I'm afraid I just turned you into a liar."

The guilt ridden lawyer began his story, a breeze blew through the leaves of the cypresses.

And my heart broke

* * *

For years Richard had been friends with the arrogant and rich son of a bitch named Boone Lassiter. Boone had a beautiful and maligned wife named Loretta and a teenage son he constantly bullied called Michael. Richard had found himself falling in love with Loretta and her vulnerabilty. They started an affair. After watching her spirit fade from what he believed was Boone's abuse, the two paramours decided to try their hand at that old film noir standby: they'd murder Boone and get to live happily ever after.

You know, though, that never goes as planned in the films nor did it here.

No, wait! This _was_ a...

Err yeah.

Forget it.

"Mike thought his mom had done it," Richard sighed. "He was put on trial. I defended him. He claimed his father had sexually abused him since he was a kid. The jury bought it. Mike got off but he figured out that I had actually murdered dear old dad. But he couldn't do anything about it. Boone died. Nobody gave a fuck at the end of the day. Life moved on."

"But you didn't," I said, rubbing his thigh. "You gave a fuck."

Ramsay, a murderer whom found out that it wasn't quite so easy to take a life and then not carry it with you for the rest of your life, looked at me sadly. "Yeah...yeah I give a fuck. A lawyer who gives one...not good in my line of work."

"Are you and Loretta still together?"

"No," he answered. "Maybe we couldn't love each other with Boone's death between us. Maybe we never would have been able to keep loving each other anyway. She moved on without me. You should meet her new boyfriend; he's about five years older than her son."

"But she's safe now," I tried to offer some comfort. "You saved her."

"Was she ever in trouble?" Layman asked bitterly after an equally sour laugh. "I'm beginning to wonder. Nobody ever tells the whole truth. Not to you, not to me. Was Boone really as cruel as she said? Would she have needed to fake bruises if he was?"

The lawyer stood and walked about six feet away from me. I studied him for a few seconds before I walked towards him and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. It felt horrible to hold him while I knew he was in pain.

No, wait! It felt marvellous to feel his body so close. 

I just wished it had been under happier circumstances.

"You were right," I told him. "I was lying. You did do something bad."

Richard Ramsay's body tensed and then sagged inside the circle of my arms.

"You needed to hear that right?" I asked holding him even tighter to show to him that I was not repulsed by him nor was I about to let him go. "You've known it since you killed Boone and right now you are tired of your own excuses. You've been trying to make up for it by helping people like me. At the same time, you _hate_ helping people like me right? You're trying to destroy yourself because Mike couldn't do it for you."

Feeling Richard's stomach move as he inhaled, I pressed my head into his back. "But I want you to know that I wasn't lying about one thing; I don't hate you. I love you more than I ever did because you're still human enough to feel guilty."

I felt better finally telling the man that I loved him.

No, wait! I felt more scared and horrible than I ever had in my life.

Then he grabbed my plump hand off of his stomach and brought it to his lips to kiss. "Thanks. Even if you just see me as another miserable creature to take care of," Richard said. "Erin...I don't know if I love you..."

The first sting of a pair of tears, one for each eye.

"But if I don't I have no idea why on earth I'm helping you search for a damned cat that nearly took my eye out because you were telling the truth when you said I fucking well hate pro bono work!"

We both laughed then, hesitantly at first and then more boldly, a sound which attracted one very important and curious audience in the Louisiana swamp.

* * *

In front of Judge Robichaux on Tuesday morning, Richard Ramsay, looking ever so dapper in a black suit, silver tie and several noticeable scratches and seeming more carefree and back to his usual self than anybody had seen him since his victory in the state of Louisana vs Michael Lassiter case, defended me against my prosecuters. It looked like a hopeless case until Ramsay brought in our star witness.

Being carried in by a very nervous apprentice for the firm where my lawyer worked for thousands of dollars, the Judge and the prosecuting team finally made the aquaintance of one Mr. Tom Cat and his brand new but postdated license.

You see, curiosity may not have killed the cat but it certainly helped him to get his furry, brown butthole caught.

* * *

I got off with only a small fine. Ironically this was for lying about NOT owning Tom Cat to the arresting officers. I paid it and that was it.

Richard took me home, both he, I and Tom Cat strapped to the back of his motorcycle. "Shouldn't Tom have a little helmet?" I asked Richard.

"No," Ramsay snapped, obviously still upset about the cuts my puddytat had left him with.

At my house, we both dropped the cage safely off on my living room floor before I walked Richard back out to his bike after some celebratory kissing. "Shit," the lawyer said, seemingly realizing something.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I left my helmet on your coffee table."

"I'll go get it," I announced.

As I ran back to my house, however, and opened the front door a gray and white furball ran out the door and I chased after it until I was back standing beside Richard. Side by side we watched the dirty brown bumhole of Tom Cat hightailing it.

"The ride must have loosened the door to his cage!" I cried.

"Don't worry," Richard said placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "He's got a collar. If anybody catches him they'll bring him back. God help them."

I cuddled next to the man and noticed him shiver in excited pleasure as he became aware of our bodies closeness.

Slowly I looked up into his eyes and I smiled. "Wanna come in so I can fix you a Po Boy sandwich? Because you look like a _very_ Po Boy despite that ridiculously expensive suit. What with all of those scratches on your face."

He looked at me reprovingly. "I'm not your replacement stray, Erin."

"I know, but you are lost and lonely and if I feed you I won't get fined, I hope," I remarked. "And, at least, I can pet _you_ safely without you biting me.."

To illustrate this point I ran my hand from the top of Richard Ramsay's back to the bottom of his ass which seemed to please him immensely.

"Okay," Richard stated convinced. "But I have been known to bite a few times."

"I'm looking forward to it," I stated as I led him into the house by his silken tie where I just gave him something to eat before he left.

No, wait! I didn't just feed Richard Ramsay that night.

Actually, if I had done to Tom Cat what I did to the very happy lawyer I would have completely understood _why_ I had been arrested in the first place.

But Richard Ramsay wasn't complaining. He was quite content to sleep in my bed and not out in the wild somewhere, would have easily let me place a license around his neck and boy could that man purr once you paid some loving attention to behind his ear!

No, wait! It wasn't his ear; it was his...

Ummm...

Nevermind.

Cat's got my tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> That's my Tom Cat! He showed up shortly after my mom died. My sis was working in the driveway and we started feeding him. We eventually fed him on the porch and to our horror he took the whole arrangement to sniff the butts of all the female cats which showed up too. He'd been impregnating them for over a year we found out. So we eventually helped to catch him and get him fixed. The annoying woman who helped said after he was released back in the neighborhood that he wouldn't be back for 3 days.
> 
> He was back in 3 hours. We took away his sex drive but not his appetite.
> 
> Since then it has been 4 years and he keeps coming back. He sits on our porch and when he sees me he starts salivating like I'm Pavlov's bell because he knows he's about to be fed. We invite him in every now and then, and while he looks curious, he always declines. Tom Cat enjoys being unowned. Kind of like you, Keanu. Infact I call you both my Vagabonds and Gypsies. But you don't have to worry; if you ever show up on my porch I *won't* get you fixed.
> 
> Unless you start impregnating all of the cats on the block. :/


End file.
